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There’s a skeleton in my closet
and from all that I can see
that boney, lanky figure
is staring back at me.

It has no eyes, this skeleton
but two holes in its skull
and though no eyes it does possess
it sees me, bed and all.

I try to hide beneath the covers
in other words, disguised,
but that’s when dread takes over me,
I must be paralyzed.

The room is still, my stomach churned,
and if I haven't said it,
the mattress under me is damp,
I think that I had wet it.

The skeleton, it looming there
creeps nearer to my bed
and that’s when lamplight bares to me
this skeleton is red.

What should be white is yet a shade
of deep, dark candy apple
and from its jaw, which clacks and sways
words spew with which I grapple:

“I am,” it says, “your skeleton
and I shall never roam
for in this closet, your dear closet,
I will make my home.”

I want to shake my head and scream
or maybe even shudder
yet move, I don’t, like a cadaver
the one before me mutters:

“Oh, don’t be frightened” it does say,
its presence quite contrary,
“I only want to be your friend
I mean not to be scary.

For we can yak or yet exchange
some secrets in the Dark.
I swear, I’ll never tell a soul
just listen, for a lark.”

My tongue, now dry, attempted to
click the creep a ‘no’
yet couldn’t move, so in its place
the skeleton did go

further from the wardrobe
did the bones begin to rattle
and bending down to face me so
this skeleton did tattle:

“Just think of all your friends,” it said,
“with skeletons of their own
now why should you, my dear, old friend
be utterly alone?”

Yet, through the darkness, and with no eyes,
the carcass still could see
that despite what it tried to say
no friends, at all, we’d be.

It turned and said, “You’re in no shape
to ask for me to leave
yet feelings now are mutual
so from this place, I’ll cleave.”

And cleave it did, from my dark room
and because of that, I see
that the non-residing skeleton
once resided inside of me.

Written by MakRalston
Content is available under CC BY-SA